



GopightN'-Z^ 



/f/^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



^ 



Andean Melodies 



By 



John Trumbuli 




Ube ll?utckerbocF?er ipress 

New York 

1912 









Copyright, 1912 

BY 

JOHN TRUMBULL 



£CI.A316006 



MY DAUGHTER ALICE 



Prologue 

Sipping at words, like honey-bees, 

And seeking to distil them, 
Like those who plunder flow' ring trees, 

And trail flower-fragrance with them, 

A poet flits from flower to flower. 
Following his own blind instinct ; 

Though, should his wings but have the power, 
The universe his precinct. 

Across life's barren wastes he goes, 

Piercing the lighted darkness : 
Wings past all pain, to death's repose, 

And pipes his note of gladness. 

Follow his flight through fairy fields ; 

Up hope's high mountain passes: 
Sample the honey which he yields ; 

Which loss, from grief, expresses ; 

Then, having tasted, should you choose 

To praise his choice of nectar, 
It may be you will not refuse 

To love your winged worker. 



Contents 

PAGE 

Prologue ^ 

Poems on Childhood : 

Those for Whom I Write .... 3 

To Anita: A Lullaby 4 

To Anita: In Memoriam .... 5 

The Town Clock 6 

One, Two, Three 7 

Sunbeam-Brother ...••• 7 

Good-Morning, Mr. Sun .... 8 

Night and Day ...... 8 

ALullaby:To J. J 9 

My Whistling Boy lo 

Sammy Jones ^ ^ 

Joseph ^4 

The Night Train i^ 

The Children's Curfew i7 

Jack Ashore ^° 

Little-Boy Stew ^9 

Evil ^9 

vii 



A Happy Birthday . 

The Braggart 

Oh, Day 

The Personal Pronoun . 

At Bethlehem 

All Day Long 

The Soothing Hand of Death 

Anita .... 
Frolicsome Verse: 

Unmitigated Thieves 

Cherries or Berries — Which? 

Aspiration and Desire . 

Pons Asinorum 

From the City of Elms . 

She Whom I Adored 

Word from Heartville . 

Ad Infinitum . 

The Belle of Ireland . 

A Jolly Breeze 
Poems on Life and Love: 

Design in Life 

Apple-Blossoms 

Isabel .... 

A Willing Slave . 

Makers of History 

viii 



PAGE 
20 

20 

22 

23 
24 

25 
25 
26 

29 
29 

30 
31 
31 
32 
33 
34 
35 
36 

41 
41 
42 
43 
43 











PAGE 


His Brothers. 








44 


The Sea-gull's Cry 








45 


The Almond Trees in Spring . 








46 


The Wooing of Eolus . 








47 


Yesterday's Norther . 








48 


A Mother's Love . 








49 


A Maiden's Love . 








49 


What Is There, Love? . 








49 


My Love May 








50 


A Clean and Upright Life 








51 


Tangles. 








52 


Anxieties 








52 


A Prisoner of Pain 








53 


The Province of Pain . 








54 


Trouble's Antidote 








55 


Abiding Peace 








• 55 


Ambitions 








. 56 


Fortunate Ones . 








. 56 


Roguish Cupid 








. 57 


But All the Time a Boy 








. 58 


The Keynote of Love . 








. 58 


Eternal Youth 








. 59 


No Counterfeit Happiness H 


IS 






. 59 


La Siempreviva 








. 61 


A Human Flower . 








. 62 



IX 





PAGE 


Sweet Modesty .... 


. 63 


Chopin's Music .... 


. 64 


The Sea 


. 64 


But Then, We Loved the Sunshine 


. 65 


Creative Work .... 


. 66 


My Love for Thee 


. 67 


Soothing Music .... 


. 68 


Love's Office .... 


. 68 


The Present . . 


. 69 


Window-shades . . . 


. 69 


For when it Was too Late 


. 70 


Cupid's Forge .... 


. 71 


Nature Poems: 




The Bobolink Crew 


. 75 


The Song of the Mapocho 


. 76 


SoNGLESS Birds .... 


79 


" El Jilguerito "I 


• 79 


" El Jilguerito "II 


80 


California Poppies 


. 81 


El Tronador 


. 81 


Sunrise on the Andes . 


. 82 


Sunset in Valparaiso . 


. . 84 


Imaginative Verse: 




Midnight Revelry 


. 93 


A Night Visit Afloat 


. 94 



PAGE 

Airy Fancies 94 

In the Morning Early ..... 95 

Matrimony 98 

The Stirring of the Spring .... 98 

The Fairies' Immunity ..... 99 

Her Lips Are loi 

The Play of Light 102 

Morning 102 

Sunset-Gold . , . . . . .103 

Poems on Death : 

The Widowed Captain AND His Boy . . . 107 

Behind His Bier 108 

At His Grave 109 

Coast Breakers no 

Lullabies .111 

Our Champion 112 

Sunset 112 

Epilogue 114 



XI 



CKildKood 



TKose for WHom I Write 

My verses are for children ; 
And for all such as be 
Of that fraternity 
Whose smile is innocence, 
Whose laughter no pretence. 

My verses are for children 

Whose quest of happiest hours 
Is gathering wild flowers ; 
Or looking out to sea, 
In dreamland reverie. 

My verses are for children 
Who gather on the shore. 
Drawn by the ocean's roar ; 
Or playing on the beach, 
Touch things beyond their reach. 

My verses are for children 
Who read, as from a scroll, 
Power in the ocean's roll ; 
Yet let life's golden sands 
Run through their chubby hands ; 

And for those too, who, like children, 
Afraid of shadows be ; 
Yet face eternity 
With equanimity. 
Enamored of the sea. 
3 



To A.xiita 

{A Lullaby) 

Go to sleep, my baby, 

Nestle close to me ; 
With love's soothing music 

Would I quiet thee. 

Go to sleep, my darling, 
Close thy peepers tight ; 

Sleepy eyes are blinking 
In yon starry height. 

Go to sleep, my baby. 
Tireless watchers fly 

Nightly to our firesides, 
Sent from heaven on high. 

Go to sleep, my darling. 
Here they come again, 

And the breath of angels 
Clouds the window-pane. 

Sound asleep, my baby? 

By those smiles I see 
Dreamland music wafteth 

Angel songs to thee. 



To A.nita 

{In Memoriam) 

Go to sleep, my baby, 

Nestle close to me ; 
With love's crooning music 

Would I quiet thee. 

Go to sleep, my sunbeam. 
Daylight everywhere 

Softens into twilight, 
After evening prayer. 

Go to sleep, my darling. 
Darkness reaching down 

Claims the hectic mountains, 
Sky and sea and town. 

Gone to sleep, my sunbeam? 

Curtains of the night, 
Falling, come between us. 

Hiding thee from sight. 

Fast asleep, my baby? 

Through my tears I see 
Only heavenly music 

Hence can waken thee. 



\ 



TKe To-wn ClocK 

Tang, tang, tang, 

Tang, tang, tang. 

Six o'clock! 

I 'm the big clock. 

In the next block, 

Bellman of night, black night. 

Tang, tang, tang. 

Tang, tang, tang. 

Off to bed, 

Sleepy-head, 

Black or white ; 

Now, say good-night, good-night. 

Tang, tang, tang. 

Tang, tang, tang, 

May the light 

Greet your sight ; 

And the day 

Bring sunny hours, I pray, 

Tang, tang, tang. 

Tang, tang, tang. 

Love the right, 

Honor bright ; 

And do the right 

Always, with all your might. 

Good-night, good-night, 

Tang, tang, tang. 



6: 



One, T"wo, THree 

One, two, three, 

Baby wee, 

At the door, 

Gave me kisses four. 

On the spur, 

Lifting her, 

I took five, six, seven; 

While her glee 

Lifted me 

To earth's highest heaven 

Straight, 

Not like a crooked eight. 

As such jollity. 

Instantly, 

Would to nine in ten 

Of most men. 



Sunbeam-DrotKer 

Daddy's little dumpling, 

Mother's precious lamb, 
Lala's roly-poly, 

Mamie's mischief "Sam' 
But than any other 

Name for our dear boy, 
David's sunbeam-brother 

Fills our world with joy. 



Good-Morning, Mr. Sun 

'Morning to you, Mr. Sun: 

Mighty glad to see you, Mr. Sun, 

For last night I had a fright. 

Waking in the middle of the night, 

Quaking lest you failed to find the hiding light ; 

But as I was full of fears, 
And trembling on the very brink of tears — 
Frightened tears, you understand — 
I reached out and caught my daddy's hand. 
And at once dropped off with him to slumber- 
land. 

'Morning to you, Mr. Sun: 
Mighty glad to see you, Mr. Sun, 
For although I had that fright, 
Now that you have driven away the night, 
I can laugh and play with that bright mischief - 
light. 



NigHt and Day 

Every time the day 
Runs off to play 
With the dark. 
In mad skylark, 
I just shut my eye. 
Because the sky 
So gloomy seems 
Without day's beams. 

Every time the night. 
That black witch night, 
8 



Runs away 

From the day, 

I open both my eyes, 

Because the skies 

Are full of light, 

And glad delight. 



A Lvillaby 

{To J. J.) 

Come to mother; 

Yes, to mother's breast: 
Snuggle still yet closer; 

Sleep, and sleeping take your rest. 

Sleep, my baby, 

Happy sunbeam dear. 
Anxious mother 's watching ; 

Sleep, and sleeping smile at fear. 

Sleep, my baby, 

Sleepy fluff of joy : 
Dream of lovely angels — 

Angels, like my little boy : 

Bid those angels 

Guard thy father's life ; 
Bring him safely home again, 

To his boy, and to his wife. 



My Whistling' Boy 

Whistling when he wakens, 

When the east grows red : 
Whistling as he quickly 

Tumbles out of bed, 
When his father's whistle, 

From across the hall. 
Claims an instant answer 

To his rising call. 

Whistling when the darkness 

Gathers overhead : 
Whistling as reluctantly 

He goes off to bed. 
How is it that whistling 

Silences our fears? 
Nerves our timid footsteps? 

Fortifies and cheers? 

All we know is, whistling 

Says to boys and men, 
"Face your spooky troubles; 

Grip yourselves ; and then. 
Young in spirit, whistle. 

Courage to maintain; 
And throughout life's troubles, 

Hopeful, calm remain." 



10 



Sammy Jones 

Throw him out of the window, that naughty imp, 

Jones, 
The spirit of evil, whom nobody owns. 
It is he who makes faces, and sticks out his 

tongue ; 
Or else in a huff, on the ladder's last rung. 
Sits sullenly silent for most of the day. 
When his majesty's thwarted and can't have 

his way. 
He 's the Turk who with both feet oft kicks on 

the floor. 
Or picks up a hammer and pounds on the door 
When he cannot get out; and then, on the sly. 
With that cute roguish look whose real home 

is his eye, 
Slips the latch and bolts out for a jolly good run, 
Like the young colt he is, frisking free, full of fun ; 
While his nurse follows panting, all dignity lost 
In the effort to catch him before he has crossed 
O'er the track, where the train screeches angrily 

by, 
While the driver leans out, ghastly fear in his eye. 
That look, it still haunts me; and in my wild 

dreams, 
I shudder and drip, when I think what it 

means. 
Do you wonder I love him, and ever will, 
The boy whom the dear Lord spares to me still? 

Then again, that 's the scamp who spills ink on 

the floor: 
Takes a pencil and scribbles all over the door: 
II 



Plays with putty; or picks off the new coat of 

paint 
That covered the drawings of my little saint. 
Do you wonder his mother cries out in despair, 
And chases the rascal, who slides down the stair, 
And is off at a gallop, because he well knows 
His mother is dying to dust off his clothes? 
I 'm sure I can vouch that it is not my Johnnie, 
But that same impish rascal, th' unruly boy 

Sammy, 
Who plays football indoors and smashes the 

glass; 
Or, when it is raining, runs out on the grass ; 
Who fights with his brother and takes great 

delight 
In punching his sister, because she won't fight; 
Pulls her dolly to pieces; dissects her new toy; 
Kicks the maid who restrains him; and, just like 

a boy. 
Then sets up a howling and runs to the cook, 
Who coddles and pets him and bids him but 

look 
At the dainties she ever puts by for her hoy. 



Spite, Sammy is never averse to partake, 

But pokes fingers in jam-pots and hooks 

mother's cake: 
He climbs every fig tree, when figs are in season ; 
And later the arbor, to stuff past all reason. 
The urchin 's an adept at getting quite full 
Of green peaches and quinces : he roars like a bull 
When pain doubles him up with those hard 

stomach-aches. 

12 



You would laugh could you hear the great noise 

which he makes : 
See the faces he pulls, when the blue bottle comes 
With an old tablespoon, and a peppermint drop : 
Laugh louder to see him, mid splutt'rings and 

kicks. 
Spill half of the contents : he 's up to such 

tricks ; 
But stern mothers teach syntax, with rules, in 

our homes : 
Punctuation is hard, till one comes to full stop. 



Yes, that reprobate, Jones, can tell fibs — on 

occasion — 
And he 's wondrously sharp, full of quaint, sly 

evasion : 
If the sewing-machine e'er refuses to go, 
Or grumblingly turns round, provokingly slow, 
Who ever would guess, from his innocent face. 
He had driven it hard, at a killing old pace? 
He throws stones on the tin roofs, to hear their 

loud rattle: 
Takes a shy at the lamp-post, to prove glass is 

brittle : 
Shakes the gate at our neighbors, to make their 

dog bark ; 
And blows peppers, meanwhile, down his throat, 

for a lark. 
There 's never a day but the rascal is up 
To plenty of mischief ; and then his huge cup 
Of enjoyment is full, and throughout the long 

day, 
Overflows as with laughter, like fields in May, 
13 



When spring trips lightly, and barefoot goes, 
So the blossoms may kiss her rosy toes. 
Do you wonder I love him, and ever will. 
The boy whom the dear Lord spares to me still? 

JosepK 

I know a boy who journeys 

To Dreamland every day : 
Who blows huge bubble fancies, 

And on them sails away. 

He takes as short-lived pleasure. 

Even in soldier play ; 
For fifed he tooting marches, 

And dreams he 's in the fray. 

He hates the desk where scholars 
Plod o'er dull tasks at school ; 

But loves to watch wee circles 
Ring o'er the dark-eyed pool; 

So, while the other truant 

Scrambles far up the brook, 
He sits and angles fancies. 

Beside that leafy nook. 

Where sunlight's rippling laughter 

Revealed the cool retreat, 
Where beauty which enslaves us 

Holds him, as at her feet. 

Till dream's quick-darting fancies. 

Rising to keen delight, 
Though caught in thought, yet travel 

To where there is no night, — 
14 



With eyes like those, which, spellbound, 
Turn from the dawn's display. 

To hide their deeper feelings 
In the dull haze of day ; 

Or the deep eyes of one who, 

While poring o'er a book, 
Gives way to freshet-feeling's 

Full-flowing, far-off look. 

And who may be this dreamer? 

What sort of boy is he? 
His name, what is it? Joseph! 

Laugh, if you will, at me ; 

But should you meet a Joseph, 

And should he disappear. 
Lost in the fogs round Dreamland, 

I pray you, do not jeer; 

Lest back to life he scurry, 

With that scared, sheepish look. 

Of one who simply cannot 

Tell th' journey which he took. 



15 



THe Nig'Kt Train 

"All aboard for Dreamland," 
Cried the red-capped guard, 

Whom you know as Sundown, 
Looking at me hard. 

So my mother kissed me, 
Ticketing me through, 

As no doubt your mother 
Often did to you. 

Then my hands she folded, 
Said my little prayer. 

And the night train started 
Ere I was aware. 

As the train went rocking 

Evenly along, 
The slow, sleepy motion 

Hushed its squeaky song ; 

And the lights went slipping. 
Twinkling far away, 

Till my blinking eyelids 
Closed upon the day. 

Though I heard no whistle. 
Much to my delight 

I could tell we 'd entered 
That long tunnel, night. 

My, but what a long one! 

Yet the Driver will 
Run me safely through it, 

So I'll just lie still; 
i6 



But at the first station 

Where they call out "Day," 

I '11 look out for brother, 
And drop off to play. 

TKe CKildren's Cxirfevr 

One evening when old Father Time 

Was slowly tolling seven, 
On those huge silver bells which hang 

From that high dome, called heaven, 
My dreamy little daughter pushed 

Her white face through the bars, ^ 
Into the twinkling darkness gazed, 

And listened to the stars. 

The stars at night toll very clear. 

In this far distant clime ; 
And children, if they try, can hear 

That starry, silver chime, 
Which calls them from their evening romp, 

And tolls them off to bed, 
With father's kiss on each soft cheek. 

His blessing on each head. 
* Windows in Chile are gridironed with bars. 



17 



JacK AsHore 

Tommy Twinkle 
Has a sprinkle, 
On his face, of pepper spots ; 

But the salty flavor 
Of his shore behavior 
Tickles lots of little tots, 

Whom with curses 
He impresses, 
When about the town he trots. 

Racing by, 
Trousers high, 
Punctuating speech with dots : 

You should see them gaping 
Open-mouthed, and aping 
Jack, e'en to his freckle spots. 

As to curses. 
And such courses. 
Pepper 's not for little tots. 



i8 



Little-Box Ste-w 

Said cannibal daddy, 
Running off with my Harry, 
"As I love baby stew, 
And am love-hungry too, 
I shall have to eat you." 

With his arms round his daddy. 
Said the resolute Harry, 
The brave Httle tot, 
"But I '11 kiss you first 
On the soft honey-spot. 



Now, daddy, I 's ready." 



Evil 

Shut Evil from your mind ; 
For should he entrance gain. 
The place will alter so 
You would not know your mind ; 
And sure, if sense remain. 
You would not choose your foe 
To be your bosom friend. 



19 



A Happy BirtHday 

The sun peeped over the mountains, 
And said good-day to me ; 

So I pulled my tousled topknot, 
And made him a courtesy ; 

But then he looked right at me, 

As much as if to say, 
How could you be so untidy, 

And that, on your own birthday? 

So I slipped into the bath-room, 
To wash, and comb my hair ; 

And all day long thereafter 
Met sunshine everywhere. 

TKe Bra^^art 

The city boy, with roaming eye, 
Bragged of the great immortal I : 
Told of the wonders he had seen ; 
Places of note where he had been ; 
And all with lordly, boastful mien. 

Pricked by their manifest surprise. 
Our hero then sped on to lies : 
Outstripped slow truth ; and with a sneer. 
Smiled at the pace of paltry fear: 
Boasted he never shed a tear. 

With rural hospitality. 

His country cousin timidly 

Suggested they go out to play, 

And — glorious pastime — spend the day, 

Tumbling and hiding in the hay. 

20 



Dressed in his best, all spick and span, 
Straight to the door our hero ran: 
On gracious condescension bent, 
Proud of himself, and confident, 
Across the yard the boaster went. 

As fast as frightened poultry can, 

The chicken-hearted hens all ran ; 

Though the rooster seemed inclined to stay, 

To then and there dispute the way, 

Or else know why he should give way. 

With wings which, scraped along the ground, 
Bristled with menace, turning round, 
Th' excited turkey-gobbler stood, 
Dressed in his blood-red warlike hood. 
In resolute, pugnacious mood. 

But our brave boaster, nothing balked, 
On toward the barn mistrustful walked, 
Until the geese, with wings outspread, 
And hissing as they forward sped. 
Frightened our hero, and he fled. 

He even, too, began to cry. 
For he saw contempt in every eye ; 
Yet so it was, and so it is, 
When valor melteth at a hiss, 
And mighty boasting comes to this. 

Until the hour of real need, 
A boast is braver than a deed : 
Once puny danger shows his face. 
The bravest boast sets fear the pace. 
Or stumbling, falls into disgrace. 

21 



OK. Day 

Oh, day, 
Dear day, 
Why go away, 
When at the sight 
Of long-robed night, 
We quake with fright? 

Oh, day, 

Delay 

Not on the way : 

Let morning light 

With glory bright 

Gladden our sight. 

Oh, day, 

We pray 

That you will stay 

And be our king — 

The radiant king. 

Of golden wing, 

Whose reign we sing. 

To-day, 

Oh, day, 

Prolong your stay ; 

Till heavenly light — 

Celestial light — 

Hath made us quite 

Fit for God's sight. 



±± 



XHe Personal Pronoun 

A crippled waif was lying 
Strapped to his bed by pain, 

When one of Christ's true sheepfold 
Told of the Lamb once slain ; 

And sought to make the sufferer 
Share in her own soul's bliss, 

By to him oft repeating, 

"The Lord my shepherd is." 

"On each of your wee knuckles, 

Dot off a separate word ; 
But Hnger on the third one. 

And claim as yours the Lord." 

At first with fingers awkward 

He feebly tried, until 
There came th' entire surrender 

Of his opposing will ; 

When on his wasted knuckles 
He found sweet comfort, too, 

From to himself repeating 
Words dear to me and you. 

And when the boy lay dying, 
On that third knuckle, he. 

With joy in his wan features. 
Kept pressing constantly. 



23 



At BetHleKem 

Peeping out one winter night 
From earth's coverlet of white, 
The wayside stones round Bethlehem 
Saw three wise men stride past them. 

Though the world seemed cold and dead, 
These had heard their muffled tread : 
Seen heaven's unaccustomed light 
Make the night so strangely bright. 

By the radiance of that star 
Which had hailed them from afar, 
The Magi met ; yet they saw naught, 
But the vision each had brought; 

And in silence on they went, 
Dumb from speechless wonderment ; 
Till they reached a stable door — 
Shepherds crowding in before. 

Who is it whom there they seek? 
Who is He whom they there greet? 
No one but a babe ; yet see ! 
Love's incarnate mystery. 

Pillowed on sweet-scented hay, 
In a manger, smiling, lay 
Weakness, yet divinest power, 
In a stable come to flower. 

Son of God, once come to earth. 
We, Thy children, hail Thy birth, 
Garlanding Thy diadem 
With peace on earth, good-will toward men. 
24 



All Day Long 

All day long, while Nita lay 

Hovering 'twixt life and death, 
I could hear the mournful Day 

Catching, as it were, his breath ; 
But when Sorrow heaved her sigh, 

As the steps of Death drew nigh. 
Grieving so to see her die. 

Daylight closed his tear-dimmed eye. 



TKe SootHing Hand of DeatK 

When Anita fell asleep. 
We with one accord did weep. 
And then fell upon our knees 
To thank God for her release ; 
But the Day which saw her die 
Slunk away with reddened eye. 
Yet he came again next day. 
For he heard the moonbeams say: 
"Peace which follows death knows how 
Best to smooth pain's troubled brow; 
And since Peace hath smoothly laid 
Every feature while they prayed, 
Angel faces in the night 
Are more likely to affright, 
Than the face of that sweet maid 
Who on death gazed unafraid." 
So Day came, and cautiously 
Took a peep ; then smiled to see 
That the kiss of God was there, 
And Love's presence everywhere. 
25 



Anita 

Long ago I lost her ; 

Yet it really seems 
As though any moment, 

Just as in my dreams, 
She might come in running, 

Tiptoeing toward me. 
Hands and feet in motion's 

Baby ecstasy; 

Till my arms outstretching 

Find she is not there ; 
When my glances question 

The unsubstantial air; 
And the empty silence 

Presses home to me. 
That *t was love which wakened 

That bright memory. 



^6 



Frolic 



27 



Unmitigated THieves 

"Come, what is that you 're at 

Behind that broad-brimmed hat? 

You surely stole a kiss 

From that bewitching Miss. 

Had I been young, my son, 

I would indeed have done 

The same, but long before ; 

So, Robert, on that score, 

I dare not now say more 

Than this : ' When you steal aught 

Of that provoking sort, 

Just have a little care ; 

And especially beware 

Lest you again be caught. ' " 



CHerries or Berries — WHicK? 

He says he plucked ripe cherries 
From lips too tempting sweet : 

I 'd say he crushed wild berries 
On your indignant cheek ; 

Yet so, had I been younger. 
For but one chance to pluck, 

I would have risked, by thunder. 
My all, — and blessed my luck ; 
29 



But now that I am older, 
I' d rather trust you, Grace, 

Instead of "the cold shoulder," 
To turn toward me your face. 



Aspiration and Desire 

If to rise you should aspire, 
You must aim at something higher 
Than your pillow; raise your head, 
And then, come, get out of bed. 

If to ride be your desire. 

You need mount on nothing higher 

Than a hobby ; ride it well : 

Some day you '11 have wares to sell. 

If to fly you do aspire, 

Take a leap at something higher ; 

See to it that you be bold. 

Clouds are often touched with gold. 

Should you burn with fierce desire 
Once to set the world on fire, 
Soar, and like a noisy rocket. 
Drop down gold — into your pocket. 

Conscious of dramatic fire. 

If to shine you would aspire, 

Be a star, a brilliant star, 

And draw big crowds from near and far. 

Should you have but one desire — 
To be able to retire — 
30 



Boldly aim at a church steeple; 

Be a pious fraud, and fleece the people; 

And then promptly go to bed, 

And hide, oh hide, your shameless head. 

Pons Asinorxim 

Across a comer of the dark 

A spider spread his tapestry 

Of close-knit, intricate design ; 

And then withdrew, to watch and see 

If any, studiously inclined. 

Inspect his geometric work. 

But though, in starry-eyed skylark, 
The goblin Night most carefully 
Ran over each bewildering line, 
And blazed the way with dew, yet he 
Next morn, with great amaze, did find 
Night's due approval of his work. 

From tHe City of Elms 

I sat beneath a pine. 
Pining my soul for thine; 
But only dismal soughs 
Swept through those sombre boughs, 
With my sad sighs. 

Beneath a storm- tossed oak 
I listened, and it spoke: 
I heard the wanton breeze 
Kissing those foolish leaves : 
Clouds dimmed my skies. 
31 



Beneath a fair elm tree 
I lay, dreaming of thee : 
The whispering leaves above 
Told me of thy great love, 
And love-lit eyes. 

Come, drown my sighs 
In those deep skies 
Which are thine eyes. 

She W^hom 1 Adored 

Lilian 's face was lily white, 

But touched with rose, like dawn's : 

Her eyes, like dreamiest stars of night, 
Soft as a timid fawn's. 

Illumined by her smile, those eyes 

Revealed love's deeps to me: 
Heaven spread their blue over my skies, 

And stole their brilliancy. 

Into her alabaster ear. 

Incense of love I poured. 
In such sweet words none else might hear. 

But she whom I adored. 

Her lips — of coral animate. 

And mobile as her thought — 
Parted, as if to seal my fate — 

A kiss which came to naught ; 

For beauty, swayed by passion, rose 

To towering height ; and lo. 
The storm, which all my ardor froze: 

A thunder-clapping "Go!" 
32 



Word from Heartville 

To-day I had a message 
From a dear friend of mine 

Who lives far off, in Heartville, 
Where maidens sit and pine. 

The inhabitants, though many, 
All dwell in separate homes ; 

Whence, from their mansard windows, 
They scan whoever comes. 

The approaches to this village. 
Though few, are much travelled : 

The finger-tips of feeling. 

When parting hands are held ; 

The shapely conchdd tunnels. 
Where only speech goes through, 

Clad in such tattered garments, 
Love smiles and laughs at you ; 

The wondrous wireless stations, 
Posted on Bright-eyed hill. 

Whose flashes, if you catch them. 
May make your heart stand still ; 

Though, as they talk in cipher. 

Sparking across the fence, 
Unless you 're in the secret, 

'T will seem to you nonsense. 

My message came through Two-lips, 

And was so very sweet, 
I want her for my wifie. 

To live in Happy Street. 
33 



A.cl Infinit-um 

He 
" 'Neath this budding tree where Spring makes 

merry, 
Mischief bids me pluck one luscious cherry 
From those ripe red lips : 
Bees above are having their first sips." 

She 
"Cherries nearly always grow together; 
And as friends should share with one another, 
Could you not pick two — 
One for me, and one also for you?" 

He 

" Yes, and then what 's thine, to thee deliver, 
Scoring one, two, three, for me the giver; 
Or why not, like a bee. 
Daily gather from this cherry tree?" 

She 
"Since in that cherried kiss, I too taste bliss; 
Well, yes, you may to-day — and aye, for aye." 



34 



TKe Belle of Ireland 

Weaving lawns of daintiest green 
So her wrinkles be not seen, 
Mother earth, who *s always spinning 
With her sister planets, sitting 
In a circle round the sun, 
Over work that 's never done, 
One day caught her children peeping ; 
And in anger, quick up-leaping, 
Threw aside her starry spindle : 
Deftly threaded a pine needle 
With a strand of her own coast-line. 
By the tooth of Time worn fine; 
And around each prying daughter 
Stitched a sheet of quiet water. 
Ever since, each filial isle 
Dares do nothing more than smile 
Quietly ; and that 's the reason 
Why, at every sort of season, 
Sailors claim they 're to be seen 
Decked in beautiful, fresh green: 
One they laud, a famous island. 
Known of all as the Belle of Ireland ; 
And of her, stout John Bull saith 
Proudly, yet beneath his breath, 
''Though Pat wield a grand shillaly, 
Mine that charming, lovely lady." 



35 



A Jolly Breeze 

When near the house he whistles, 

Or down the chimney comes, 
To join the lamp-light parties 

Which gather in our homes, 

Some say, "That wind sounds mournful" 
And driven, with desperate vim, 

Fly down the draughty hallways, 
And shut the door on him ; 

While I, with fellow-feeling, 

Call him a "jolly breeze"; 
Though often for a frolic 

He strips my best fruit trees ; 

But then, he 's fond of joking, 
And loves to crack — my boughs ; 

Or when I storm at trouble. 
Turns all my sighs to soughs. 

That certainly sounds hoggish, 

As, too, you must agree, 
When he waits round the corner 

To pounce upon a she. 

Yet he is naught but playful 

I think you must admit. 
For he snatches off her bonnet. 

And then runs off with it. 

He 's but a sporty fellow, 

Much such as you or I, 
Eager to prove his mettle, 

Ready to do or die. 
36 



But when you cross the lowlands, 

He is the cheery chap 
You meet, who 's always singing, 

And who greets you with a slap : 

A slap, by way of greeting : 

A tingle on the ear ; 
Or, coming closer to you, 

Perhaps he starts a tear; 

For, when he drops to whispers, 
He stirs us through and through. 

Like whisperings of conscience 
Which startle me and you. 



37 



Life and Love 



39 



Design in Ufe 

Stop, I pray thee, tell me not 
That my life is but a blot 
Spattered on the page of time ; 
Every life 's a speaking line, 
Drawn by etcher's pen divine: 

Light and shade together go ; 
And, as in life's prospect, show 
How, through raining good or ill, 
Sunshine must break through, and will 
Spread its peace o'er purpling hill. 



^pple-Blossoxns 

Mid the dainty, white-and-pink 
Apple-blossoms blooming on your cheek. 
Roguish dimples play at hide-and-seek ; 

And in hiding there, I think 
That, 'twixt merry laughter and shy gladness, 
I see love, in love, reproving sadness ; 

Yet if in one lingering kiss. 
Smothered deep in apple-blossom's bloom, 
You but let me bury doubt's dread gloom, 
41 



Summer sunshine's ripening bliss 
Will assure your lover's fruitless sorrow 
Many cosey winters for to-morrow. 

Isabel 

Can that maid be 
The little girl who once did sit 
Upon my knee? 

As a girl quite small, 
Her trembling heart confessed to me 
Its troubles all. 

Her lips to mine 
Were often pressed, and there did rest, 
In trust divine ; 

But as love did call, 
Into my soul she softly stole, 
For good and all. 

How could I know, 
That in but two short years that maid 
Would cruel grow? 

Yet once she 'd grown, 
When Isabel heard love's appeal 
Her heart was stone. 



42 



A Willing Slave 

For, what is liberty, 
If daily, without thee, 
I slave? 

Smile thou but once on me, 
And I will ever be 
Thy slave: 

Let me but once, once kiss 
Thy finger-tips and bliss 
Is mine ; 

All that I am, and have; 
All that the heart can crave, 
Is thine. 



MaKers of History 

The witless world gives him who plants the flag. 
And roots it on the stubborn, shell-plowed hill. 
Booming acclaims of noisy victory; 
When often he who, clambering up that crag, 
Met death half-way, and at its foot sleeps still, 
Fir^d the shot which altered history. 



43 



His BrotHers 

*'Thy brooding loneliness, oh man, 
Impels me to inquire, forsooth, 
Had *st thou no brothers in thy youth, 
Thou sombre, solitary man?" 
He answered, but with softening gaze 
Of grateful yet surprised amaze: 
"Yes, there were Innocence and Mirth, 
Sister and brother, twins by birth. 
Companions who grew up with me. 
Yet whom I taunted mockingly 
Because they loved Simplicity, 
Clung to the skirts of Purity, 
Or walked beside Veracity. 
I cannot now recall the day. 
Nor why it was they went away; 
Though this I know, that they did say, 
* You '11 kill us, if you talk that way. ' 
I, scoffing, laughed; yet once they 'd gone, 
Lonely it was to be alone. 
The first to go was Innocence : 
She died when I was but a boy ; 
Though for a while, urged by Pretence, 
I romped with him we nicknamed Joy. 
Then he too went the long, lone way ; 
But Pride would never let me say, 
'Peccavi: Would they might come back,' 
Till now, when I, repentant, mourn 
My Innocence. Now, could I track 
Her steps, I 'd follow every turn; 
And though one led into the night, 
I 'd gladly die, but for a sight 
Of the lost Innocence of youth. 
44 



God grant that, by the guiding light 

Of His illuminating truth, 
Forgiveness yet may grant me but this earthly 

joy, 
To see them once again as when I was a boy." 

TKe Sea-gvill's Cry- 

Whene 'er a storm draws nigh, 
And sea-gulls circle high, 
Shrill voices from that sky. 
Whence torrents soon will pour, 
Hurl their defiant cry 

Into the teeth of the storm. 

When life's fierce storms strike me, 
Oh soul, would thou might 'st be 
Strong- winged and bold ; nay, free. 
In life's tempestuous hour. 
To scoff at destiny. 

And override the storm. 

To breast each whirling gust 
Of passion, yea, of lust, 
Mount, soul, on wings of trust, 
Buoyant and unafraid ; 
For soaring manhood must 
Outride life's every storm. 

Since fierce winds cannot last. 
When storms are overpast. 
And every mighty blast 
Leaves thee, oh soul, unscathed; 
Then shall the sun, at last, 
Shine clear above the storm. 
45 



THe Almond Trees in Spring 

When beneath love's airy tree 

You so coyly stood with me, 

In the early blossoming 

Of the almond trees in spring, 

Its frail canopy of white 

Hid heart flutterings from your sight. 

Spellbound by your budding grace. 

Gazing on your open face, 

In the early blossoming 

Of the almond trees in spring, 

"Here's my hand," I said to you, 

"And my heart; pray take it too." 

Sighing then, a timid breeze 

Quivered through those bursting trees. 

In the early blossoming 

Of the almond trees in spring, 

And the ground lay snowed with white. 

Faint suggestions of delight. 

Lovingly I sought your finger : 

In my hand you let it linger, 

In the early blossoming 

Of the almond trees in spring ; 

Till I slipped-on that tiny thing 

It wears, your thin engagement ring; 

Then your coyness all departed. 
For we both were merry-hearted. 
In the early blossoming 
Of the almond trees in spring ; 
And you tiptoed for a kiss, * 

Fruitage of love's ripening bliss. 
46 



And ever since that full-blown hour 
Of love, the fragrance of that flower, 
In the early blossoming 
Of the almond trees in spring, 
Though it pass with faintest stealth, 
Wafts me the sweetness of your breath. 

And when winter brings the snow, 
Dreaming dreams, I always go 
Through that scented avenue 
Where I sauntered. Love, with you, 
In the early blossoming 
Of the almond trees in spring. 



TKe "Wooing of Eolus 

Brushing by my lady fair, 
Oft I 've fingered her light hair; 
Turned it over, so it might 
Tangle brightly, breezy sight ; 

But to-day I stole a kiss : 
That was all I dared ; yet this 
Brought the color to her cheek : 
Love no further need to seek. 

Still I '11 stay and linger near, 
Hovering about for fear 
Other vagrant venturers 
Trespass on those lips of hers. 

If one should, then I will storm, 
And enwrap her slender form 
In a fierce and wild embrace, 
Ere I snatch her from his face. 
47 



I would woo her lovingly — 
Steadily, not boisterously ; 
But if thwarted, at the last 
Love becomes a tempest blast. 

Yesterday's NortHer 

Keen-eyed from out the North, 

Fearless and bold, 
The spirit of desire 

Swept as of old. 

Desire, in frenzied gusts, 
Howled through that sky : 

By youth's mad passions lashed, 
Billows ran high. 

The bosom of the sea 

Heaved troubled then; 
And evil-looking clouds 

Did brows darken. 

My anchor held all through 

That night of gloom, 
Though shipwreck fiercely tugged 

To rocks of doom ; 

Then suddenly the wind 

Veered to the West : 
Skies cleared ; bright smiled the sea. 

And Love brought rest. 



48 



i\ MotKer's Love 

It is a huge, vast continent, 

Whose one and only boundary is pain 
Which circumscribes divine content, 

So she may daily cry for heavenly rain ; 

Or else that love whose rivers run 

So deep, and full of love's great buoyancy, 

Would parch beneath life's burning sun. 
Whereas they flow full to eternity. 

A Maiden's Love 

A sweet, frail flower : and yet, withal, a star 

Whose pure and steady light 
Guides man across the bar. 

Beyond the reach of storm, or darker night. 

WKat is TKere, Love? 

What is there, love, that I can give, 

That can in any way 
Be worthy of the gift thy love 

Bestows on me to-day; 
Since all the wealth affection spends 

So lavishly on me. 
But serves to make the best I give 

Seem poorest poverty ? 

Languishing eyes have granted me 
More than love dared to ask, — 

Glimpses into thy very soul. 
Smiling behind life's mask ; 
49 



While maiden kisses from soft lips, 

Confessing timidly, 
Revealed the strength of woman's love. 

And made a man of me. 

What is there, love, that I can give, 

That can in any way 
Be worthy of the gift thy love 

Bestows on me to-day? 
The only gift within my power. 

That I dare offer thee, 
Is a heart which strove, and strives, to be, 

Like thee, in purity. 

My Love May- 
Boot and saddle Away, away; 
Mount my roan mare and ride to-day, 
"Over the hills and far away," 
Through my clover fields all strewn with hay ; 
For sweet as the breath of my love May 
Is the dewy breath of the new-mown hay. 

Take my old gun, and my dog Tray, 

And hie to the hills : Away, away. 

Past the lowlands and lowing rills 

To where the sun bursts on the smiling hills ; 

For bright as the smile of my love May 

Is the morning smile of the hills to-day. 

Here is my rod and reel : To-day 
Joy is afield : Away, away. 
To where the speckled trout are flashing, 
To where the leaping brooks are splashing ; 
For clear as the voice of my love May 
Is the voice of the silvery brook to-day. 
50 



On wings of airy fancy, spring 
Into the vaulted blue, and sing 
High praise of her whose wondrous eyes 
Are cloudless as our Chilean skies, 
In whose ethereal deeps to-day 
Bright gleam the eyes of my love May. 

You must away. Oh haste, I pray, 
And ride, climb, wade or fly to-day : 
Leave me alone, but for to-day, 
To stroll these woods with my love May. 

A Clean and UprigHt Life 

A merchant's watchful foresight 

Schemes, ponders, pipes his oil ; 
Webs every sea, and makes the world 
Pay tribute to his toil ; 
But wider than world-scheming, truth must 

hold 
An honest life's worth more than wealth untold. 

To rouse emotion's frenzy, 

Make cheering lack for breath, 
March to triumphant music 
With those who scaled past death 
To heights of fame ; yet worthier I hold 
The hero of a life as clean as bold. 

An artist ever dwelleth 

In distant dreaminess, 
Till gleams of inspiration 
Touch mountain loneliness; 
But though such moments yield him dazzling 

fame. 
Their brief glow pales beside a star's pure flame. 
51 



What joy to be a poet, 

And leave the world a song : 
Rapture, to soar to heaven 
And take the world along ; 
But greater than impassioned utterance still, 
That life which seeks to know, and work, God's 
will. 



Tangles 

"Eyes of darkness, whose soft light 
Mitigates the gloom of night, 
Whence come the twinkles which ye have? 
And whence the darkness which they cleave? 

"Did He who made heaven starry-orbed, 
Whose smile creation's light absorbed, 
Greet too, as good, that darkness light 
Probes only with the soul's last flight? 

"Pain and sorrow, whence come they, 
Shedding tears 'mid life's glad day? 
Though by man scarce understood, 
Doth God's word pronounce them 'good'?" 

"Pain, we hold, is love's disguise," 
These replied, with pained, sad eyes; 
"For pain would that ye wooed health, 
Bride whose dower is more than wealth. 

"Length of life will be your crown: 
Death, ye may not hope to down ; 
Since thus only can the race 
Hope to see God, face to face." 
52 



Anxieties 

Often from my sleepless bed have I 
Waited for the day with anxious eye : 
Watched him, prying with a beam of light, 
Slowly lift the ponderous dome of night : 
Watched, and seen, that stalwart broad-backed 

day 
Rise, and heave the solid night away 
Over those up-reaching mountains high, 
Far beyond where gloomy fog-banks lie 
On that dreary stretch of plumbless sea, 
So typical of intranquillity. 
Should the night e'er drop into that sea, 
Then would gloom splash over you and me. 
And swamp us 'neath its weight of mystery. 
Oh, dark, dread mystery of crushing night! 
Oh, sweet forgetfulness of living light! 



A Prisoner of Pain 

One day Pain dragged me past his portico. 

Along a clammy passage, to that hall 

Where those condemned by fate to torture's 

thrall 
Are linked, for company, with galling woe. 

His hall is a low-ceilinged, dismal place, 
Whose ghostly echoes are but gruesome groans ; 
While outside, jostling o'er the cobble-stones, 
The heedless crowd troops by with callous face. 

But from the darkness of that yawning gloom 
Which opens all about me, and around, 
53 



Stare men with frightened faces, anguish-ground 
And drawn, as though they saw within that 
tomb. 

Whose groaning door I, too, so often see 
Swinging ajar; yet through whose portal, light 
Falls faintly on my swimming, sinking sight — 
Hope's beam to one tossing in misery; 

For of that shipwrecked host which hopelessly, 
Fools claim, are drifting toward the shores of 

death, 
There are who dare maintain with broken breath, 
Death beacons to life's crowning victory. 



TKe Province of Pain 

The pains we feel are X-rays which reveal 
What fleshly zeal might tempt us to conceal ; 
And 't is by them we photograph the flaw, 
Or slightest fracture of th' unwritten law. 
May wider wisdom, granted from above, 
Help us to speed the coming age of love : 
Perfect, as God Himself is perfect, be ; — 
Or, rather, strive continually to be; 
Till lowliest service shall be pleasure : health 
The priceless boon men seek, not pearl-less 

wealth : 
Till, longing for the promised second birth. 
Men wake one day to find Christ come to earth. 



54 



Trouble's Antidote 

When to heaven I raise my eyes, 
Through each rift in lowering skies, 
Eyes of wondrous calm I see 
Smiling, cheering, heart 'ning me. 

Is it that they look beyond 
All that can the heart astound? 
That, though troubles still abound, 
They have peace already found? 

When with sickness heavy-freighted, 
Thought goes slow, and grows faint-hearted; 
Oh, what peace, if every eye 
Had their piercing purity ! 



A.bidin^ Peace 

When at his grave, parental love 
First saw its hopes were vain, 

I trod the wine-press all alone, 
And groaned with inward pain ; 

For overcast was all my sky, 

With sense of utter loss ; 
And yet I felt that God, through pain, 

Wasjburning all my dross ; 

And that He would, in His own time, 
When earthly troubles cease, 

Reveal the beauty of His face. 
And grant me heavenly peace. 
55 



Ambitions 

Youth, as it climbs the hill, 
Aims at high peaks which rear 

To heaven, — 
And scales their sides, until 
Those peaks loom near. 

Age, going down the hill, 
Overlooks those peaks which reared 

To heaven; 
Yet trudges on, for still 
Heaven is neared. 



Fortunate Ones 

Happy, yes, twice happy, they 

Who as children learned to pray : 

Who at their saintly mother's knee 

Caught their first glimpse of purity : 

Who, first, through eyes of infancy, 

Sighted those realms of mystery : 

Whose childhood knew th' uplifting power 

Of that soul- winging, evening hour ; 

And rose, on pinions of her trust, 

To where frail creatures of the dust 

Can soar, and glimpse that heavenly home 

Whence her dear voice still whispers, "Come.' 



56 



Ro^viisK Cvipid 

It was really most unkind; 
Cupid, creeping up behind, 
From sheer mischief, aimed a dart 
At a pretty maiden's heart. 

Through her heart there shot love's pain, 
Freeing fancy, firing brain: 
Quick she turned, and looked around ; 
But the rascal on the ground. 

Crouching low, hid in the grass, 
Holding up a looking-glass. 
"Oh, you lovely rogue!" she cried, 
As she her face unwitting spied. 

" *Tis your own face that you see," 
Laughed the rogue, with honest glee, 
' ' Love has wrought its wondrous change ; 
That is why your face seemed strange. 

"If your face transfigured be. 
When you smile coquettishly, 
Once into his eyes you gaze. 
Love will set your face ablaze." 



57 



Bvit All tKe Time a Boy 

Let all who would life's brimming cup enjoy ; 
Who' d quaff its pleasures without fear's alloy ; 
And, dying, yet leave friendship reconciled 
With death, be "once a man, and twice a child,' 
But all the time a boy. 



TKe Heynote of Love 

Perched on the spire of yonder tree, 
A diuca, with fine gallantry, 
Poured forth his heart's glad ecstasy, 
In few, yet mellow, liquid notes ; 

But his exultant joyousness 

Voiced, too, that mood of tenderness, 

In which a soul, from loneliness, 

The melting plaints of sorrow quotes. 

Why is it, neither bird, nor man. 
Has been content, since time began, 
With joy which every wish outran. 
To give, and never to demand? 

Once we desire, joy soon takes wing; 
While self-forgetting love can sing 
The livelong day ; and, like day, bring 
Sunshine and joy to every land. 



58 



External YovitH 

Beauty of itself is naught, 

For beauty's self is often bought ; 

But should frail beauty be allied, 

Nay wed, to vital virile truth. 

Whose dower is perpetual youth ; 

Then death itself may be defied, 

And thought survive when we have died. 



No Counterfeit Happiness His 

When youth unto manhood has come. 
And affection has found him a wife, 

Love and happiness lodge in that home, 
Just to share in the joys of their life: 

No counterfeit happiness his, 

But genuine, exquisite bliss. 

Winter evenings the lamp adds its glow, 
While he reads to her, sewing apace 

On such garments as deft fingers know 
How to make of soft linen and lace : 

No counterfeit happiness his, 

But genuine, exquisite bliss. 

He rejoices to see the deft way 

She can handle such exquisite things : 

How she folds them and puts them away 
In a drawer, full of requisite things : 

No counterfeit happiness his, 

But genuine, exquisite bliss. 
59 



With the doctor, anxieties came ; 

For she suffered, and he suffered too ; 
Yet at cry of their child, words were tame 

To express the glad joy of those two : 
No counterfeit happiness his, 
But genuine, exquisite bliss. 

Proud to carry her babe on his arm, 
On Sundays he walks with his wife; 

And through trying to shield them from harm. 
Picks his way past the pitfalls of life : 

No counterfeit happiness his, 

But genuine, exquisite bliss. 

Or again, with a boy on each knee 
In mad gallop across hillocked lands, 

His eyes fairly sparkle with glee 

At their laughter and clapping of hands : 

No counterfeit happiness his, 

But genuine, exquisite bliss. 

With the children he frequently climbs 
To the hill-tops to drink in the view, 

Or with them partake of choice rhymes, 
"Cherries Ripe," or "Little-Boy Stew": 

No counterfeit happiness his, 

But genuine, exquisite bliss. 

And whenever they stroll by the shore, 
Or watch the green breakers roll in, 

Above the sea's infinite roar, 

Life's glad joy hears the heart's deeper din : 

No counterfeit happiness his, 

But genuine, exquisite bliss. 
60 



And so, to the end of the chapter, 

Until he puts out to sea, 
He '11 join in the boys' merry laughter 

And share in their boisterous glee : 
No counterfeit happiness his, 
But genuine, exquisite bliss. 



La Siempreviva' 

Content within thy lowly sphere 
In parching poverty to dwell. 
Dear, dainty little immortelle. 
Thy beauty doth to me appear 
Demure 
And pure, 
As that ofttimes in seething cities found. 
Where poverty and brazened vice abound ; 

But, virgin of our bleakest hills, 
Amid the barrenness of life. 
Its clayey passions, hardening strife, 
The lesson which thy face instils. 
Is this, 
I wis, 
That everywhere diviner souls there be 
Which bud and bloom amid adversity. 

God bless thee, and all those like thee, 
Who on this selfish, sordid earth. 
Through love's great bounty, here have birth ; 

For beauty and humility, 

* A dainty blue-and- white everlasting flower which in 
the early summer is found growing all over our barren 
Chilean hills. 

6i 



Recast, 

Hold fast 
Our faith in man, and in the unseen God, 
Whose paths we miss if we go not unshod. 



A Human Flcwer 

Woman, thy love 's a fragile flower 
Whose fragrance man too oft has power 
To steal, in some lone, tempting bower : 

Thou trusting dove. 
Too often spurned, after an hour 

Of yielding, frightened love. 

But hath not nature made us so, 

That thy great love to thee brings woe? 

That, as in ages long ago. 

Thou givest him 
To taste love's luscious fruit ; and lo, 

Th* avenging cherubim. 

With drawn swords, watchful at the gate ; 
Whilst thou, time's one unfortunate, 
Goest forth to hide thy sad estate ; 

Till suffering 
Hath made thy motherhood elate 

O'er thy sin offering: 

An outcast, far from home, alone, 
In soul and body seared to bone, 
Man's meanness hardens thee to stone, 

So selfishness 
Might, lusting, drag thee from thy throne, 

To glut his wantonness. 
62 



But God, who reads the heart aright, 
Entrusts thee with a beam of light 
A throb with life, and pure and bright 

As thou, before 
Thy virgin dawn, at day's despite. 

Blushed deeply, — dawn no more. 



S'weet Modesty 

''Precious little maid. 
Glad, yet half afraid. 
Why that tear? 
Is love aught to fear?" 

"Love doth bid me go 
Smiling ; and yet so. 
What if I 
Pail to satisfy?" 

"If my modest elf 

Be her own sweet self 

Certainly 

That can never be; 

"For simplicity, 
I confess to thee, 
Is to me 
Dear as modesty ; 

"Hence I press my suit 
Fingering love's lute ; 
For such fear 
Makes you doubly dear; 
63 



"And I come to you 
With devotion true, 
Worshipping, 
Since I cannot sing 

" *Twas that chirping wren 

Bade my amorous pen 

Imitate 

His call to his mate." 

CKopin's Music 

Whene'er soft-fingered music plays. 
She straightway lifts whoever strays 
Through nocturne glooms, on wings of sighs. 
To the wide gates of paradise ; 

And then, though silence lets him down 
Into the turmoil of the town, 
Above its deadening din he hears 
The music of celestial tears. 

TKe Sea 

The sea is cold and cruel, 

And hath a serpent's hiss: 
It glides with a wave-like motion, 

And deadly is its kiss. 

But the sea aroused is the emblem 
Of our restless, billowing life : 

Its seething tells man's trouble; 
Its storms depict his strife ; 

Yet, while its bosom heaveth, 
Through its unconscious depth 
64 



There rolls a tide of purpose, 
Mysterious as man's breath. 

Oh ! would that my heart could fathom 

That mystery, called life : 
Feel the pulse of its small beginnings — 

The heave of its giant strife. 

And then, when the storm abateth, 
And peace breathes over all, 

May heaven lisp its message. 
And love lure with its call. 



But TKen, "we Loved tKe SiansKine 

A poem is a perfect pod 

Of seed- thought, exquisitely wrought ; 
Whose rigid form would fain preserve 

The fruitage of our silent thought. 

Pods thickly hang on every branch 
Of yon old, gnarled espino-tree ; 

Though why it flowers and bears fruit. 
Is but to question mystery. 

Through unseen rootlets does it draw 
Rich sap from out the mouldering past : 

Life's crumbled joys and sorrows give 
To living thought its vital cast. 

But then, we loved the sunshine ; 

Gratefully breathed God's air; 
Stood rooted firm 'gainst storm and wind. 

And wrestled with despair. 

65 



Crush, if you will, our seed-pods ; 

Scatter them o'er the earth ; 
For by the favor of high heaven. 

Beauty may spring, and joy have birth. 

If seed or line find lodgment, 
In soil where yet mysteriously 

Life may take root, we die content 
Knowing that we shall never die. 

Creative "WorK 

A poem is a gleam of truth, 
Seen on life's wind-swept sea. 

Whose far-off glitter takes the glint 
Of ocean's mystery: 

It is a flash of feeling, full 

Of sparkling imagery ; 
Where fleeting movements feel the heave 

Of deathless energy: 

It gathers, like a wave which rolls 

Out of eternity, 
To break upon the shores of time 

In rhythmic melody : 

We feel its lifting buoyancy, 

Its rushing energies ; 
The thundering volume of its voice, 

Its broken cadencies: 

Its billows sweep the souls of men 

At toss upon this earth. 
Far from the paltry froth of life, 

To where winds have their birth : 
66 



Amid Creation's works we stand ; 

We hear the stars applaud ; 
We track man's powers to their source ; 

And hail, not man, but God. 



My Love for XHee 

Mystery, mystery, 

Ah me! the sea! 
Ceaselessly, ceaselessly, 

Calling to me. 

Measureless, measureless, 

Stretches the sea: 
Boundless, boundless, 

My love for thee. 

Restlessly, restlessly, 

Heaveth the sea: 
Passionate, passionate, 

My love for thee. 

Fathomless, fathomless, 

As the deep sea, 
Infinite, infinite, 

My love for thee. 

Mystery, mystery. 
Broods o'er the sea: 

Stranger still, stranger still. 
Thy love for me. 



67 



SootHin^ Music 

When martial music thunders its commands, 
Men join in battle, and with bloody hands 
Grapple with Death, striving from him to wrest 
Supremacy ; but they are more than blest. 
Who, in the cadences of music find 
Such harmonies as waken in the mind 
Melodious soothings ; till man's wounded soul. 
By touch of healing music, is made whole. 



Love's Office 

Soften human hearts with kindness, 
And imless there be soul-blindness, 
Underneath man's crusty hardness, 

Everywhere the good upspringing 
Blossoms, grateful perfume giving ; 
And through love's abundant seeding, 

Helps to beautify the earth, 

And garland it with bright-eyed mirth, 

Where health and happiness have birth. 



68 



TKe Present 

{From night, through dawn^ to day) 

Gaze on the Past! You'll find her deeply 

veiled, 
As though in darkest night, 
With here and there a jewelled point of light. 

Turn toward the Future; when she hides, 

concealed, 
As is her royal right, 
In golden clouds of dawn's thin, fleecy light ! 

Live for the Present! See, she stands revealed 
In her imperious might; 

And all ablaze with love's warm, quickening 
light. 

Window-SKades 

Though modesty has made your downcast eyes 
Demurely draw their fringed shades, so love 
Should not pour in, to blind or dazzle you ; 
Yet still, I trow, you '11 find my finger-tips 
Are friendly messengers whom you can trust ; 
While just inside the portals where soft speech 
Doth knock, there stands that ciliary host 
Whose duty 't is to warn your timid soul 
Of sighs which, speaking my soul's emptiness, 
Would still their perfect fulness find in thee. 
Would I might overcome indifference. 
And with the force of persuasion gain 
An entrance to that labyrinthine host 
To make them do my bidding; so that we 
Mighty parley, and arrange the mutual terms 
69 



On which you would capitulate to me ; 

For I am sure that if your listening ear 

But caught the music of approaching, glad, 

Victorious love, responsive interest 

Would raise the shades which maiden modesty 

Has drawn, and flash, full in your hero's face, 

A smile of welcome — of rejoicing pride 

At his victorious coming to his own : 

He 'd rule your heart, if love admit him, yes ; 

But only as prince-consort unto you, 

His queen. 



For -wHen it Was too I^ate 

Seen in the glare of youth's noon hour, 

Desire appeared to be 
A woman of resistless power. 

Arrayed right royally. 

To him, the rustle of her dress 
Went by with silken noise ; 

Followed his eyes, with tenderness, 
That low, Circean voice. 

Imperiously she bade him rise: 

He must to her aspire : 
He rose and followed, foolish-wise, 

His brain a whirl of fire. 

Trembling at each august command, 

Or gesture of desire, 
In vain he raised imploring hand 

To shield him from her ire. 
70 



Hard as bright, polished, murderous steel, 

The glitter in her eye : 
The torment of his life, to feel, 

Without her, he must die. 

"I am life's one and only prize, " 

Her look : he madly kissed : 
The scales fell from his famished eyes 

And instantly he wist ; 

And hence, from shame, he never brags, 

For when it was too late 
He saw that she was dressed in rags. 

And at her side sat Fate. 

Cxjipid's Forge 

Where is that busy smithy found, 

Where Cupid makes those winged darts 

Which everywhere bestrew the ground 
With wounded, bleeding, broken hearts? 

Say, in what furnace heat of love — 

Tempered, of course, with foolish tears — 

Fashioned he arrow-heads and drove 
Longings e'en to the verge of fears? 

Is it not in the breast of youth 
He fans the flame that deifies ; 

Kindling, as in the heart of Ruth, 
Passionate longings, tender sighs? 

Yes, in the glowing heart of youth. 
Where pulse of passion never dies, 

Hope hammers on the anvil truth. 
And shapes the thought love glorifies. 
71 



Youth is the world's idealist, 
Aglow with passionate desire : 

His ardent hope, once he has kissed, 
Too often ashes on his fire. 

We may in time grow gray with years ; 

But never should the spirit be 
Other than young, to laugh through tears, 

And still press on determinedly. 

For in love, as in life's larger strife, 
The future's dawn must ever be 

Bright with the promise of a life 
That shall outlast eternity. 



n 



Nature 



73 



THe BobolinK Cre-w 

One morning in spring, 
All the woods they did ring 
With the antics and song 
Of that wonderful throng, 
The mad "Bobolink" crew. 

"A strange ship touched at port, 
As I 've heard from report." 
"That may be, yes; but then?" 
"On shore-leave came her men. 
The whole 'Bobolink' crew. 

"Some went by, on the wing: 
Some did row : some did sing ; 
But for me and for you 
There are, in that crew, 
Only ' Bob ' and his mate. 

"And report 's not amiss: 
Able seaman, Bob is; 
For he '11 sail far away, 
When leave' s up, on the day : 
That will ' Bob ' and his mate. 
75 



"But though far they may go 
On this earth, to and fro, 
In our hearts rings the song 
Of that magical throng. 
The glad 'Bobolink' crew." 

THe Son^ of tHe MapocHo 

Come along, come along, 

Ye young and strong, 

And hear my song, 

My dashing song. 

Why must ye ever go, 

So calm and slow? 

Join in the rush of life, 

And with me run to share the joys of strife; 

For though with many a bootless splash, 

I often come a crash ; 

Do I not also flash, 

As for an instant I 

Dash at the sky? 

And duty done. 

Or wild race run — 

Be it lost, or won — 

Brings a mad rush of joy 

To whole-souled man or boy. 

Come along, come along, 

Ye hale and strong, 

And heed my song, 

My splashing, dashing, rousing song. 

Come along, come along, 
Ye young and strong, 
And hear my song, 
My sparkling song, 

76 



Whose earnestness would fain prolong 
The dazzling gHtter of my short-Hved song. 
Impelled by recent rain, 
I dash across my river bed ; 
Yet never proudly raise my head : 
I flow along th' alluvial plain, 
Twisting and turning, but in vain, 
To escape the boulders of mischance; 
And though too often driven between 
The granite cHffs of circumstance, 
Or crushed by many a mill unseen ; 
Still, with a heart to do His will, 
I daily run, 
Bold as the sun; 
Or, like a boy, 
Romping in glad sunlight 
And bubbling over with delight. 
From fullest thankfulness and joy 
I laugh and sing — yes, laugh and sing, 
E'en from this bed of rocks; 
And hope to make the valleys ring. 
Till silver tips my flowing locks. 
Where distance lingers lovingly and lays 
Life's restless glances in the haze 
Of far-off, dreamy, sunset days ; 
For though in my short life. 
With struggle and with trouble rife, 
I often feel the shock 
Of many a flinty rock, 
I know I '11 reach the sea 
Where clearest waters be : 
Where God's transpiercing light 
Makes darkest lives and waters bright. 
Come along, come along, 
77 



Ye hale and strong, 

And heed my song, 

My jostling, joyous, earnest song. 



Come along, come along, 

Ye young and strong, 

And hear my song, 

My fullest song. 

Come along with me, 

To the wide sea, 

To plumb the mystery 

Of deepest life : 

Pulse to its strife, 

If need there be. 

Ere vast eternity 

Shall swallow you and me; 

For life is brief. 

And I 'd as lief 

Haste to the fray : 

Be spent as spray, 

Fierce spin-drift spray. 

As dreamily to ebb and flow 

In some sequestered bay, 

Sheltered from storms which blow, 

Yet whose ambitions high 

Hurl billows at the sky ; 

For there will come a day 

When, duty done, 

The mighty sun 

Will spirit me away ; 

So I still would say. 

Come along, come along, 

Ye hale and strong, 

78 



And heed my song, 

My gleaming, gladsome, gratefiil S0|ig. 

Soulless Birds > 

Happy swallows on the wing, 
Why is it you never sing? 
Flitting, darting, skimmimg low, 
Wheeling from the ground you go ; 
Yet because you never soar 
Above the city's busy roar, 
Your twitting gladness never breaks 
Into song, when day awakes ; 
Nor at sunset, when the light 
Softens feelings ; but, like night, 
From your ebon wings there dart 
Gleams of gladness through my heart. 



"E:1 Jilgxierito- 



Jubilant songster. 

Alight on my thorn: 
Most passionate poet 

That ever was born: 
Voluble minstrel. 

Gone daft with delight, 
Thy song is sufficient 

To scatter the night. 

Mom comes at thy singing 

All radiant with smiles, 
And twinkles of pleasure 

Light the dew-drops' bright eyes ; 
79 



But thy marvellous rapture 

And trills of delight 
Seem scarcely sufficient 

To scatter my night. 

"Bl Jilgxierito" 

II 

Gay little songster 

In yellow and black, 
Thy tide of rejoicing 

Seems never at slack. 

Importunate minstrel, 

Thou callest the dawn, 
And from her low window 

She smiles at the morn ; 
While through tears, oh, thou lyrist 

Of fleet-winged delight ! 
I implore, "Let thy rapture. 

Now, scatter my night." 

Thy song is infectious : 

It breaks out in trills 
Which startle the meadows. 

And gladden the hills ; 
Till over my troubles 

It comes, like a balm, — 
Like music which softens 

And soothes me to calm. 

Gay little songster 

In yellow and black. 
May troubles ne'er reach thee ! 

And thy young know no lack ! 
80 



California Poppies 

Full in my face their golden petals fling 
The soul of sunshine ; yet to my surprise 
Love sees but glints of roadside welcoming, 
And rustic glances which appear to rise 
Like sparkles from a sea of laughing eyes ; 

But later on, returning to the town 

When lingering daylight's low, long shadows 

come, 
Half-closed they droop and drop demurely down. 
As if to tell me I am nearing home : 
That there love dwells; and I no more need 

roam. 

El Xronador' 

The tense white knuckles of thy clenched fist 
Upraised to heaven, attest thy attitude, 
O Thunderer, whom in rebellious mood' 
Mockest thy Maker. Thou hast seen, I wist, 

^ The Thunderer, the name of a mountain on the Chile- 
Argentine southern frontier, which appropriately derives 
its name from the frequent rumbhngs heard in its vicinity; 
and which are occasioned by the thunder of avalanches 
loosened by the nightly freezings which invariably follow 
the thawings of warm summer days. The mountain has 
several magnificent glaciers, the largest of which is the 
source of the river Peulla which flows into Lago Esmeralda; 
while on the opposite side lies Lago Frio, a choice gem of 
emerald in massive mountain setting. 

Lovers of lake and mountain scenery could not do better 
than visit that region, with its lakes of unrivalled splendor, 
and its never-to-be-forgotten mountains, Tronador, 
Techado, Puntiagudo — the Andean Matterhorn — Calbuco, 
and yet more glorious Osorno, the Fujiyama of Chile. 
8i 



His glory burst on thee in storm and mist, 
Yet hast been bHnd; and, from sheer hardihood 
Of pride, frownest because the multitude 
Bow down to Him. Canst still God's love 

resist? 
By day, stern-featured, proud of mien, I see 
Thee stand unmoved ; but, in the dead of night, 
The sheeted silence quakes when thou dost 

groan. 
It must be ghostly conscience visits thee ; 
So grinding pain might bring thee to the light, 
Where coldness thaws and tears for sin atone. 

Sunrise on tKe Ancles 

When the fair dawn, in scanty light arrayed, 
Steals through the darkness, kissing all to life, 
At her awakening touch the infant East 
Turns roguishly; then, bolder growing, beams 
Through heaven ; till to its fleecy rafters reach 
His roseate smiles. And once he finds his voice. 
Heaven crimsons with the glory of his song. 
The pallid stars withdraw, afraid to hear : 
Earth stills her breath and closer comes; while 

winds, 
Faint from far journeying and panting joy's 
Exquisite poignancy, drop down to earth 
And fold their airy pinions languidly: 
Lithe leaves turn from their play, and listen. 

High, 

Yet higher, soars that anthem, gleaming far 
Past dawn : on wings of ecstasy clouds poise 
Above th' Andean domes, which, shrouded, lay 
As dead till dawn stooped to their wakening ; 
82 



When, at the touch of her chaste lips they, too, 
Majestically raise their surpliced forms, 
And with uplifted heads and eyes agleam 
Rift into song of dazzHng rapture. Thence 
Joy rolls from hill to hill in one long wave 
Of billowy light, which, bouldered into spray. 
Splashes the fields and floods high heaven with 

sheen ; 
While outcast darkness, in its flight adown 
Those valleys, crouches to the earthward heave 
Of the incoming light and breaking day; 
Or madly clutches to the sun-swept face 
Of yonder cliff. 

And yet, with instant power, 
Mom's flood of sunlight makes th* hard-featured 

earth 
Fair glow and joyously break forth in tones 
So deep the dewdrops tremble with delight ; 
For when, with a master-hand, the artist sun 
Touches the golden strings of earth's huge harp. 
And wakes celestial melodies, at once 
The full-orbed music quickens every blade 
Of grass to gleams of timorous harmonies; 
While snow-clad peaks, which have for ages 

towered 
Above earth's lowlier throng, blazon their praise 
In lines whose splendor and whose piercing power, 
Fruit of long dwelling mid star solitudes. 
Find world-wide utterance in the loftiest rhyme 
That ever rolled from glowing heights of song. 

Aye, could we hear the sunHght speed through 
space, 

83 



Flashing its glints of melody athwart 
Heaven's blue, then would man's heart eagerly 

haste, 
As darkness did when dawn thrilled through the 

gloom. 
To sing once more the song Creation sang 
When Chaos answered to the voice of God : 
At His, "Let there be light," the mild-eyed dawn 
Stirred the dark silence of immobile space 
To spiralled groupings of starry symphonies, 
And stellar fugues whose subject, whose response 
From Pleiad clusters, nightly twinkle forth 
The sun's, "Praise God for light, and life, and 

hope: 
Praise God from whom all blessings flow : Praise 

Him 
All creatures! Fill the whole earth with joy 

and praise." 

Sunset in "Valparaiso 

On that battered tugboat, 
Mooring for the night. 
With its peaceful blessing 
Falls the evening light. 

Like a quiet, soft-eyed welcome, low with love's 
delight : 

There another circles; 
And its gleaming wake 
Trails long curves which wider 
Undulations make, 

Till in tiny ripples on the silvered beach they 
break : 

84 



From that floating foundry 
Watch those boats which come, 
Crowded to the gunwales, 
Hastening toward home. 

Towed by tugs a-scurry down long lanes of 
rustling foam ; 

While the men, impatient 
Once the shore draws near, 
Rise impulsively, and, 
Laughing loud at fear, 

Leap from boat to boat in rush to gain th' 
outreaching pier : 

Aye, and lumbering lighters, 
Stacked with merchandise, 
Crawling to their moorings. 
Make us realize 

Why this hour of day, to toilers, seems toil's 
paradise; 

But with strange, compelling 
Mystery, the sea 
Wakens dim suggestions. 
Stirring mightily 

Moods whose springtide heavings rise and fall, 
like melody, 

Till the very groimd-swell 
Of eternity, 

Cresting, breaks upon us. 
When tranquillity 

Grants enlightened vision glimpses of felicity; 
85 



Or the pensive quiet 
Of that sunset sea 

Leads our thought, through calmness, 
To serenity, 

Where reflection's touches give to both trans- 
lucency : 

Here, a clear-cut figure, 

There, some shadowy line, 

Hints at form adorable ; 

Nothing we define, 

Yet the poet in us owns all reflected light divine : 

If in splash of sunlight, 
Dreams we realize; 
Shimmering beauties dimly 
Veil their glad surprise 

In a smile like that which flitteth round joy*s 
tear-dimmed eyes. 

But with golden glories 
Of the setting day, 
Cold and deepening shadows 
Overspread the bay, 

As if thought aglow with transport soon must 
pass away; 

For th' approaching twilight 
Holds our thought confined 
To life's narrowing circle; 
While the undefined 

Stretches man's horizon past the utmost reach 
of mind. 

86 



But let a single ripple 
Ruffle that smooth sea, 
And a fleet of fancies, 
Scudding merrily, 

With their sails all set, go sweeping seaward 
fearlessly: 

Wearied with day's travel, 
Longing for the night, 
Even at the foothills 
Drops the drowsy light, 

Glad to lay its golden head on mother earth to- 
night; 

Though all we who listen 

To her lullaby 

Glimpse a tinge of sadness 

In that melody, 

As if earth were also singing the day's threnody; 

For methinks that, sleeping, 
Smiles the evening light: 
That at his feet, the ocean, 
In each dreamy bight, 

Breathes as quietly, yet waits the coming of the 
night. 

Watch those shadows creeping. 
Creeping up that hill, 
Till the Andes ashen — 
Ashen and lie still, 

Like a face which, graying, doth death's destiny 
fulfil. 

87 



But th' Andean hill-tops 
Stand entranced ; and hold 
Mystic, lone communion, 
Like those seers of old 

Whose reflected glory still makes distant thought 
flash gold. 

In the purpling twilight, 
Like an opal cloud 
Looms huge Aconcagua, 
Rising from its shroud, 

Like a seer whose vision seems with utterance 
endowed. 

"Oh, thou mighty mountain, 
Thy transfigured face. 
As thou gazest heavenward, 
Holds us: this the place 

Where not fear of death, but dying rapture, we 
can trace. 

" Naught of tearful sadness 
Should attend this hour: 
Thy enraptured vision 
Tells of hope's vast power 
To comfort, when the shadows deepen and when 
cold grays lower. 

"We have had thee with us. 
That, at least, we know; 
And we bless Creation 
That it hath been so ; 

Though in darkness we be left to grope our way 
below. 

88 



"Whither leads death's beckoning? 
Whither do we go? 
Tell us what we mortals 
Long so much to know : 

Tell us ere the darkness wrap us in death's deaf, 
dumb woe." 

"Though pale evening's chill tinge 
Earth and sea with gray; 
Yet Light's living spirit 
Westward wings its way; 

And where darkest night is, there shall smile 
the coming day. 

"Had you dreamed the darkness 
Would the stars reveal? 
Know ye not that death, too, 
Must life's goal conceal? 

God is Love; and that ye trust Him, — this, 
death's one appeal." 



89 



Imagination 



91 



Midnig'Kt Revelry 

On the rippling moonlight sea, 
Nimble fairies, trooping, play. 
"Children of the moon are we," 
With pert, laughing eyes, they say. 
"From the star-clouds' giddy spaces, 
With our pale yet fearless faces, 
On the moonbeams down we sHde : 
Watch us as we Hghtly glide, 
O'er the heaving, tranquil tide: 
Smoothed for us, this glassy floor 
Stretches to yon elfin shore, 
Whither wavy paths of light. 
Strewn with rustling sparkles bright, 
Lead us; and our revelry. 
To the ocean's minstrelsy. 
Startles night's tranquillity. 
Come, youth and staid serenity, 
And join our midnight revelry." 



93 



A Night Visit Afloat 

On the phosphorescent sea, 
Pulling too right merrily, 
Playful sprites oft row : 
Magic spoon-blades throw 
Pearls of liquid light, 

Elfin bright, 
Into the iridescent night — 
Songs which seek to calm shy mermaids' fears : 
Lovely pearls which are their nacred tears : 

Snatches of song. 
With notes that to the lapping waves belong: 

Splashes of light. 
Whence startled maids, in zigzag, weird affright, 

Arrow along ; 
Or quickly plunge to reach, through cleaving 

flight, 
Th' unruffled calm of spriteless, ebon night. 

Airy Fancies 

Thoughts run about within my head, 

In dishabille. 
Like children who though gowned for bed 

Yet romp awhile. 

I hear the pattering of feet 

Eluding me : 
I hurry ; but they are more fleet 

Than ecstasy. 

My midnight tossings only glimpse 

Them fretfully; 
While, though my verse too often limps, 

It joyously 

94 



Transcribes their beauty to some line 

Of lyric grace. 
Art claims her gifts must be divine, 

Since she can trace 

Such airy fancies of the mind 

As baffle one, 
Like light on leaves, which, in the wind, 

Blink at the sun ; 

Till, having caught words' witcheries, 

Their rhythmic flow 
Sweeps joy along, in poesy's 

Ecstatic glow. 

In tKe Morning; E-arly 

Curt, incisive, like the "no," 

With which you spurned me long ago, 

Would I make my last appeal ; 

Yet to-night I somehow feel 

That my utmost reach of power 

Is to pluck hope's roseate flower, 

By surrender to this hour. 

When twinkling fairies run about 

In midnight frolic's elfin rout, 

In and out at their play, 

As we too may, my love, yes may. 

If you '11 only say me "yea." 

I should love to teach you, love, 
The merry playfulness of love : 
I should love to have you feel. 
As rejoicing I now feel. 
The very witchery of love. 
95 



"Fairies, guide my pen aright; 
Only what you may indite, 
Dare I, Hstening, now write." 

"In the morning early, 
Take a morning-glory : 
Fill it full of petals 
Of the sweetest roses, 
Steeped till evening closes 
In fresh morning dew ; 
For of such, we friendly fairies, 
Under cover of the night, 
Working oft by glowworm light 
Mid the buttercups and daisies, 
Must distil that potent brew, 
Which your lover fond and true 
Begged that we might make for you. 
So, at this trysting hour of night 
When the waiting stars, long leaning 
On heaven's gate, hang dreaming, 
Leave your darkened bower unfearing. 
And venture forth by star-dust light : 
Take your brew along with you ; 
And guarded by our elfin crew 
Roam the fairy fields, until 
You descry our moonshine still ; 
When, low in the grassy gloom, 
Look with eager, loving care 
For a mushroom, white and fair: 
Once such table you have found, 
With the daintiest new broom. 
Made of trembling maidenhair. 
Just sweep up the jewelled ground, 
And at once be seated there — 

96 



On a nut, squirrel scooped — where 

You must take love's lowly seat ; 

And while you star your heaven with thought, 

We will prepare what you have brought : 

But pick the bluebell at your feet, 

And, tilting, tintinnabulate, 

Should we fairy maids be late, 

In trooping back to circle you, 

And on our wands present to you 

Choice goblets of love's magic brew : 

If from one beaded buttercup, 

You, low bending, drink it up. 

Instantly you '11 taste true love, 

Own the sweetness of his love. 

And give full measure of your love ; 

And with fairy lads and lasses, 

Mid the daisies and the grasses. 

You and he will romping play 

With us, for you '11 say him 'yea.'" 

That is what they bade me say; 
Therefore I make bold to pray, 
Once again, that you to-day 
Read, relent, and be my May; 
And I add a line to say, 
Impatiently I wait your "yea." 



97 



Matrimony 

In my fancy's airy boat, 
Made of sea-foam, would I float ; 
Borne by breezes, born of sighs. 
Such as fill a lover's eyes 
With a tenderness unknown : 
For a mast, a small fish-bone; 
And a shiny bit of scale, 
To provide a silver sail : 
Fitted thus, I 'd go with thee, 
Even to eternity; 
If so be you '11 ship with me 
For a voyage to that sea. 
The home of human destiny. 

Skipper finding such a mate, 
Friends may well congratulate ; 
For he '11 surely make his haven, 
Since your smiles to him are heaven. 

TKe Stirring of tKe Spring 

Scenting spring in every breeze, 
Should not we, love, like the bees, 
Venture out between the showers 
To call upon the rainbow flowers? 
Dart past some ; with others play ; 
Or zigzagging fly away 
To some virgin bud or spray. 
Decked as for earth's bridal day? 
Visit honeysuckle bower. 
And dip in every chaliced flower? 
Bathe in sunshine every day; 
Or loiter where the wild flowers stray 
98 



In the gipsy days of May? 
And when fragrance shows the way, 
Seek the modest violets, 
Whom no hummer e'er forgets? 
Bear away big beeves of gold; 
Sup where dainty sweets are sold ; 
And drink of fullest life until 
You and I have had our fill? 



THe Fairies* Immvinity 

On the billows of the deep, 
Mountain long and mountain steep, 
See us ride when storms arise. 
Clamoring to reach the skies ; 
For with sails close-reefed we go, 
Plunging through those crests of snow. 
Whence wind- witches blow 
Clouds of spindrift snow 
To the troughs below. 



Blow, ye breezes, softly, strongly ; 
Waft us forward swiftly, slowly; 

Dipping downward, 

Climbing upward. 
Watch us through the tempest go, 
Laughing at the storms which blow ; 
Though we scud along 
To the whistle of the song 

Of the hurricane. 

Or the wild refrain 
Of the billowing, bellowing main. 
99 



Giant seas break o'er us : 
Threatening billows rise before us ; 
But their mountain menace 

Causes no alarm, 
For about our pinnace 
Tumbling, splash they, lacking strength of arm 

To harm ; 
Since earth, air and sea, 
And the unseen powers that be. 
Are in league, and near us. 
To shield us, and to bear us. 

Far away. 
To where baby breezes play 

With the light. 
Splashing it with fingers bright 
In their joy's intense delight 

To be free to play 

Peek-a-boo, all day, 
With the sun; 

Or again, with beaming faces run, 
Hand in hand as one. 
O'er the prairies of the sea. 
Till their leader snaps-the-whip so suddenly 
That the storms, in sheer dismay 
At such irrepressible display 

Of the spirit of play, 
Veer right round, and slink away, 
Leaving us now free to play 
All the livelong sunny day ; 
And with joyous ecstasy to say, 
Saw you ever such a day? 



100 



Her I^ips Are 

Rubies, such as you 11 not find 

Anywhere so to your mind ; 

Yet if you but make her smile, 

As wit can, once in a while, 

These divide, and, parting, show 

Isles of pearl, set in a row. 

Through the length of that wide sea, 

Stretched in laughing jolHty: 

Healthful mirth and sunny glee 

Thence ripple forth contentedly ; 

Whisperings, when love is nigh ; 

Softest sighs, when love goes by; 

Breezy coquetries, and play. 

Such as suits light-hearted May ; 

Jolly laughter's hearty blow. 

Through doldrum calms to speed the slow; 

Or, should thoughts come flying fast, 

Yes, a veritable blast. 

Where you feel reserve of power 

To start a gale at any hour. 

Such might be ; but she, on me, 

Smiles as doth the sunlit sea. 

On whose gently heaving breast, 

Quieted my deep unrest. 

Love is lulled to dreamy rest ; 

And when passed all earthly harm. 

Ocean's breathless, beauteous calm. 



lOI 



The Play of LigKt 

By day the sunbeams row around: 

Sometimes across the bay: 
Or wantonly they run aground, 

And tumble in the spray; 
But then you hear them laugh and roar, 
As they chase the waves along the shore. 

Nightly the moonbeams take a dip, 

And splash about in gold : 
They never find the nights too long ; 

The water *s ne'er too cold 
To take a swim far out to sea, 
In brilliant, breezy ecstasy. 



Morning 

The horsemen of the day 
Have levelled all their lances at the night ; 

And bugled by the dawn, 

Have driven far away. 
And scattered everywhere, in great affright. 
Her dusky legions. Oh, emplum^d morn, 

I do rejoice that I was born. 

If but to witness such a day. 
And see the glittering squadrons of the light 
Pursue the shattered forces of the night, 
Adown those cafioned valleys, now so bright : 
As we, too, hope to see victorious right 
O'erthrow the wrong, and set the world aright. 



loa 



Sunset-Gold 

It must be that King Midas passed this way, 

Or else how could that spendthrift, Setting-day, 

Such prodigality of wealth display, 

That from my window-seat I naught behold, 

But ships cut out of solid blocks of gold; 

Or boats returning from that western shore, 

Whose barren hills are made of massive ore : 

Whose larger, mountain piles of golden snow 

Set every human heart, at once, aglow 

With passion to possess? Yet, could the eye 

Take in th* ethereal beauty of the sky. 

Or feel its ampler power to satisfy; 

Then would earth's wayworn travellers long to 

fly 

Unto those regions of unseen delight, 

Where faith shall no more grope, but walk by 

sight. 
In lands beyond the realm of coming night. 



103 



Death 



105 



TKe Wido-wed Captain and His Boy 

Dumbly he sat and watched that ebbing life 
Recede, till failing strength slackened the strife : 
To stem the rising tide of tears, and stay 
Grief's choking grip, he gazed across the bay. 

"The evening gun has not yet fired; 
And father, why am I so tired?" 
"All day you 've tossed about, my boy: 
ThanU God, the cry is 'Land ahoy.' " 

"Father, why is it that I feel 

So strange? " " My darling boy, your keel 

Is grating on the farther shore : 

The sea of life he 'II sail no more.'' 

"And father, who is this I see 
Coming with arms outstretched to me?" 
With a loud groan, thanks could not smother, 
He sobbed, ''Great God ! It is his mother." 

All night that stricken captain held the hand 
Of his dead child ; and now I understand 
Why he with bated breath maintains, "The sea 
Is always full of a holy mystery." 



107 



BeHixid His Bier 

Roll in, thou dismal fog, 

And wrap the earth in gloom ; 

For I to-day must stand 
Beside his open tomb. 

Thy beady clamminess 

Sends shudders through my heart; 
And, in thy chilling breath, 

I feel death's counterpart. 

Not with thy creeping stealth 

Did cruel death sneak in, 
But snatching, caught my boy, 

And mauled him in his gin. 

The boy's keen love of life 
Welcomed the knife ; but still. 

Death, grinning,^ stood hard by, 
To thwart the surgeon's skill; 

Till he who always looked 

On others tenderly, 
Himself, pursued by pain. 

Succumbed to agony. 

Wherefore this cypress path. 
Which now, unmanned, I tread, 

To leave my manly boy 

In the home of those long dead. 

'The hard, drawn smile of those with serious abdominal 
mischief is, perhaps, best described as a grin. 
1 08 



Thy gloomy pall, fog-spread, 
Hangs motionless and gray 

But darker mystery 

Beshrouds the grave alway. 



The fog begins to Hf t : 

The sunshine must break through. 
"Thy will, not mine," I pray, 

"Oh God, my faith renew." 



At His Grave 

Leaves, they are falling; 
High winds are howHng ; 
Dark storms appalling, 
Everywhere, everywhere. 

Tears, too, are f alHng ; 
Human hearts breaking, 
For death is reaping, 

Everywhere, everywhere. 

Gravel is falling, 
Helplessly falHng, 
Dull thuds resounding. 
Everywhere, everywhere. 

But while I stand brooding 
O'er life's hard schooling. 
Love still is ruling. 

Everywhere, everywhere. 



109 



Coast BreaKers 

Roll in, ye playful waves ; and ye 

Whose bubble feet, 
Running far up from out the sea 

The earth to greet, 
Splash snowy white upon the sand : 

Stay, stay, ye boisterous waves, I know 

Your rising laughter 
Doth often treacherously grow. 

Like dire disaster. 
To have an undertow of wrath : 

Down, down, ye waves, though gaping wide, 

Your caverned jaws. 
And gleaming teeth, in hollows hide 

Those crushing paws. 
Whose grip of hate whitens men dead ; 

While, with deep roars of sullen wrath, 

Ye fling them dead, 
And dripping, on the lonely sand — 

To bleach indeed, 
White as the clenched fist of fate. 

But there is that in puny man 

Death cannot kill : 
Ye merely break through bars which can 

Imprison; till. 
Once free, his soul, with life elate, 
Wings to heaven's gate. 



no 



L'Xjillabies 

A lullaby is a siren song, 

Which lures that dreamer, Sleep, away 
From sunset glories, and along 

Through woods where slanting sunbeams 
play. 

Into that twilight gloom, where now / 

A mother lulls her babe to rest : 
With wistful soothing strokes his brow, 

Or closer holds him to her breast; v. 

^^> 

But as Sleep softly brushes by, / 

On crooning music's magic wing, ( 

The wizard closes baby's eye 
To downy, dreamy slumbering. 

So may my weary eyelids close, 

And love sing lullabies to me ; 
When death, the angel of repose, 

Rocks me to sleep eternally. 



Ill 



Our CKampion 

Death was the champion wrestler long ago, 

Who sneering stood upon the crowded stage 

Of life, with bones akimbo — privilege 

Of taunters proud. But now, it is not so; 

For even we, the weakest, hence may go 

Forth to our bout with him; and, to his rage, 

Secure the under grip, if we engage 

To truly trust the only one we know 

Has ever risen from a fall by him, — 

And he. the Christ, who let himself be thrown. 

To pr'^^e death's utmost; yet, seeming undone. 

On Easter morn a troop of cherubim 

Hai^id Him the victor, tendered Him the crown, 

W lo from the grave, at dawn, came forth alone. 

Sxinset 

If when the day streams in, glad sense of life 
Fills and o'erfiows the current of our thought ; 
At eventide when mountain shadows wing 
Their sombre flight, out to the dark unknown. 
Delusive dreams of youth no longer lure ; 
Nor gild ambition's sky with promises, 
Whose morning splendors turn to baneful glare. 

The kindly tints of memory here blend 
To soften harshness with beguiling light ; 
For age, — whose hazy dreamy memories 
Have charms sweeter than dawn's bright hope- 
fulness. 
Or brazen noonday's fierce consuming zeal, — 
Smiles softly, through that pensive afterglow 
Whose soothings tinge the tranquil close of day. 

112 



And since all nature settles to repose, 

No strife should mar that hour when all is hushed 

Save solemn gurglings from the croaky marsh, 

Or mating birds that sing of life to come ; 

For silence soul-like to repose invites ; 

While earth, air, sky, and passionate deep reflect 

The quiet confidence of evening's calm. 

Despite all dark misgivings, dreaded night 
Steals peacefully into our dreamy thought, 
And death proves powerless to awaken fear ; 
For evening's muffled shadows, gliding on, 
Past mountain ranges, out beyond the night, 
Lead thought to where thought must un- 

sandalled go. 
And lose itself in the wide realm of worship. 

Awed by the darkness, and its silences. 
Our humbled thought in adoration bows ; 
While hallowed lips repress praise felt too deep 
For utterance, save as we kneel in prayer ; 
Whence, rising, chastened faith unfalteringly 
Puts out her hand, and through the darkness 

walks, 
In clearer seeing confidence, with God. 



113 



£pilo^\ie 

Lord of the ages which are past, 
Lord of the ages yet to be, 

Man who was in Thy image cast, 
Like Thee, is of eternity. 



His backward glance tracks the long trail 
Of past endeavor, by Time's wrecks ; 

But former failures naught avail 

To stay the man who heavenward treks. 

The nations are a jostling crowd, 
Whom prejudice and passion school; 

Though even where 't is least avowed. 
Misguided love is still the rule. 

Shut in by narrow enmities. 

We trudge without that view sublime 
Of him who climbs until he sees. 

That patriotism may be crime. 

Huge, mountain blindness hems us in ; 

But passes of the present lead. 
Through suffering, the trail of sin. 

To plains of broader love indeed. 

Short-sighted, blind, our faith must be, 

If from the pinnacles of hope 
We see not, with glad ecstasy, 

A future full of boundless scope. 
114 



Lord of the ages which are past, 
Lord of the ages yet to be, 

We stumble on; but man, at last, 
Shall walk with man, in charity. 



115 



MAY 29 t9f2 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



018 482 078 A ^J 



